


Humbleness

by xenosha



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, Human Sacrifice, Mental Breakdown, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:33:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25597342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenosha/pseuds/xenosha
Summary: "So long as this world turns, you shall walk its face. You must learn the importance of life and death. Only then may you rest."
Relationships: Lie Ren/Nora Valkyrie, Oscar Pine & Everyone, Oscar Pine/Ruby Rose
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	Humbleness

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Смирение](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25113055) by [xenosha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenosha/pseuds/xenosha). 



> dedicated to Tuxony.
> 
> translating things is difficult...  
> if you have any comments or corrections, I'd be very grateful for your help!  
> enjoy reading <З

It's night in the bloody lands.

Stained glass shards crunch under the boots. Black light makes eyes cry. The columns support the darkness, the darkness conceals the capitals; the floor is red marble.

She's standing a little aside, white, cold, watching. Black blood flows through her veins, and under her white skin pulse well-seen vessels; Oscar notices this when she raises her hand with a dagger.

 _Don't touch the blade,_ the wind blows through his head and Oscar submits. He more comfortably intercepts the knife and feels the goosebumps on the arm: the sword of Destruction oozes with magic, even hiding as a simple dagger.

With not his own disengagement Oscar watches his hands shake and, clinging to the thought, tries to calm the shiver. His knotted heart beats quietly and painfully deep in his chest.

Salem is silent, and on her face, Oscar knows, there is no smile, no chuckle, no sympathy. She steps aside, rustling with a cloth, and stops by the column like a shadow: a danger lurking in the dark.

Oscar walks up to the altar, which stands in the center of the hall, and squatters, leaning his forehead against a cold stone. Sharp patterns, not made by a human hand, are pierced into the skin, and Oscar clenches the dagger more firmly, looking for support in it.

Alien magic gets in his palm painfully.

They stand for a while, a tangle of alarm and a distant observer. Oscar can't bring himself to stand up, and Salem's not going to push him. She's got all the time in her hands.

Minutes drain on the columns as blood.

***

Time stops - and starts its course again when steps are heard from deep in the hall. Fast but confident; Oscar makes himself raise his head and look at the emerging silhouette.

He recognizes him immediately by shoulder width, by gait. The Dagger of Destruction vibrates in his hands, and Oscar hesitates to call out the one who's coming - he's afraid of echoes and his own voice at the same time. His legs aren't holding him.

It's him, of course. He's always been braver than the others. That's when Oscar gets the foolish idea that they'd all better be cowards.

"Well... hello?" Jaune smiles weakly, standing up so as not to see a silent shadow by the columns. Oscar looks up at him and feels his lungs squeeze without letting him breathe; his hands move, and the dagger scratches the ancient stone.

"Come on." Jaune scares and sits on his knees next to him, with his hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. It's all-"

"What is okay?" Oscar whispers, feeling the handle fit into his skin. It's hard to breathe.

Jaune shrugs his shoulders. "Well, then it' ll be okay soon. Everything always comes back to normal."

Oscar sniffs, or rather, hysterically sobs; a short sound jumps out of the columns and high ceiling, cuts through the air. Jaune's tranquility gives a crack, and he steps back, his hand trying to feel the hilt of the sword.

But there is no sword, and the echo soon fades; Jaune slowly exhales and extends his hand to Oscar.

"Come on," he smiles, "the sooner we begin, the sooner we finish, huh?”

Oscar looks at him with a blurred fuzzy look and takes his hand rather automatically. He leans against the stone and tries to get his head in relative order while Jaune lies down on the altar.

He's got no armor or his favorite sweatshirt but some old shirt instead; when he smiles at the boy cheerfully, his lips shake.

Oscar feels someone else's confidence pouring into his heart and his not spilled tears drying up.

"Forgive me," he whispers.

"I have no reason to be mad at you," Jaune shakes his head.

Oscar doesn't swing and sticks the dagger in as it is; he misses - Jaune grabs air with his mouth convulsively - but magic cuts his ribs like butter. Oscar begins to shake again, and the blade moves and cuts his chest; in the end, his throat bleeds, and Jaune takes his last breath.

Sight floats, tears lie on the face like cold threads; Oscar covers Jaune's eyelids and leaves two bloody prints.

"What do you feel?" for the first time, Salem's voice. She's not angry and she's not happy - calm, unwavering.

Oscar doesn't have the strength to hate her.

"I... I can't hear him anymore," he whispers as he tries to unwind the black tangle into words instead of howling, "I don't... don't want..."

Oscar stumbles into Jaune's still warm hand; tears are a stone in his throat.

"Goodbye, friend."

He is twisted by grief and the nauseating smell of blood; it's as if on a carousel, the world revolves around him. _Speak, Oscar,_ he hears a whisper in his head, and he speaks ill, painful, he-will-not-see-him, will-never-again, he vomits, his heart aches-

Salem interrupts him thoughtfully, "That's enough."

Oscar should have burst into tears at this point, but the needle of her voice acts as a slap, and emotions dry up.

"Finish the job."

Oscar nods, takes the dagger in the hand again and leads it through the bleeding flesh; he remembers how his auntie once slaughtered a cow and imagines it instead of a man. One line through the ribs, another symmetrical to it, another from the tip of the sternum to the solar plexus. The blade runs gently, silently: magic destroys everything in its path.

The shirt is soaked in blood, and the same does the altar, the blood does not flow from it like a stone is a sponge; the dagger is in blood, and the blood is on the hands. Oscar hopes he hasn't touched his face; that thought makes him twitch.

Salem with a hand gesture ignites magic at the fingertips, and the bleeding body is lifted into the air; the path of red drops is lost in marble divorces.

Oscar turns to look at Jaune for the last time, but he's already sunk in the dark.

But he seems to still feel the look of his eyes in the back of the head.

And of others scarlet, looking out of the darkness, in the front; they drill him, evaluate him, try him on. Oscar hates her so much.

...he'd like to hate, but the whispering in his chest calms him down, reminds him, _All for the best._

Oscar makes himself believe it.

***

Ren comes quietly, habitually walking on the stone with a soft gait: he touches Oscar - and he bounces away, putting his hand out with a dagger in a protective gesture. The edge of consciousness - probably not even his own - notes that Oz has probably used this dagger more than once.

It's only the next thought he realizes he's trying to protect himself from a friend.

Ren is pale; in his usual calm like sharp shadows there is tension, he hides it in the compressed lips, in the wrinkle between the eyebrows. He looks at Oscar's hands, and Oscar knows what he sees on them.

Blood of a friend.

And yet Ren gathers the courage - crumples himself like a failed draft - and smiles a little at the boy. He says nothing to avoid making it worse, but he always says so little that Oscar has almost learned to read his mind.

"Whatever happens after, it's not your fault"

"We both know it's necessary"

Oscar remembers how Jaune's gaze died, and it must be reflected in his face. Ren flinches, gets closer and ruffles Oscar's hair a little bit.

”No one else can handle it, Oscar," he says softly, and there's something shiny in his eyes. "It's important to all humanity."

The last phrase is echoed in the chest, beats between the ribs and absorbs into the heart; Oscar, petrified, whispers: "You're a good friend, Ren."

"You too, Oscar. You were and you will be"

Ren lies down on the altar in peace of mind with the braid down for comfort and freezes with his eyes closed.

He looks asleep.

He looks asleep forever when Oscar sticks a knife through his heart.

Blood flows slowly from Ren's chest, maybe because this time Oscar managed to hit the target; or maybe the heart of phlegmatic warrior didn't get the blood going up at that speed. Oscar buries his forehead into his hand and says a few farewell words.

"What does that mean?" asks Salem.

Voice is shaking, "Ritual farewell... Mistral. Ancient. That's how we let our relatives go." Oscar smiles, and he gets cramped lips, "I think... Ren would appreciate..."

He had said these words to his parents, his aunt taught him; Ren is his older brother... was him... Through the tears Oscar barely sees where the knife leads, and one cut with a disgusting smacker goes too deep and almost scratches the stone.

"Ren won't forgive me for being so sloppy," mumbles Oscar to himself or Salem (even he doesn't know).

His own trembling voice does not help to calm down, and the boy tries to wipe water from wet cheeks with his sleeve.

***

He knows who's coming next, and still unpleasant cold snakes are along the spine from waiting. But when the steps are too light and not loud enough, Oscar thinks he's wrong.

But she comes out of the darkness in a faded skirt, worn-out blouse, and all like faded; only the face is cut with a dreamy smile. She looks at the altar, at the blood trail, at Oscar, and it's like she's more excited.

"Nora," calls her Oscar. "You..."

She shrugs her shoulders.

"I'll see them soon," she says without fear. "If there's a fairytale Valhalla or something more boring, they'll all be there. I imagine they and Pyrrha can't help but talk!"

Oscar can't smile back at her - with the blood of her team on his hands, on his face, in the hall soaked in the smell of iron; but Nora can't see the black and red look and doesn't feel guilt and bitterness.

She smiles, a woman who has no one left.

"I haven't spoken to my parents in so many years."

Oscar thinks his muscles are corroded.

He falls to his knees, not holding on his feet, and suffocates with words and tears: he wants to help, to apologize, to cheer up, to shake over shoulders, hers and his; but he has an attack, and he hugs himself over shoulders, unable to squeeze a single word.

Nora hugs him, holds him to herself, not afraid to get dirty in the scarlet; she mutters to him tender nonsense swaying aside, and painfully looks like his aunt.

But when his aunt did that, Oscar cried over a clogged cow.

Nora lifts his face with two fingers by the chin, with the back of the palm wiping his tears and blood; says softly, "We all agreed to this plan, remember? I believe in it. Jaune believes... believed in it," her voice jumps up a little on the misspeach, but she gets her act together instantly, "so did Ren. If it were up to me, I'd drop the hammer on myself and get on with it! But a plan is a plan, right?"

Oscar gives a little laugh or something that should be it: an unhappy squeak comes out. Nora hugs him tightly. He knows she's right, but knowledge lies beneath the ice and the ice devours his heart; the guilt is ultimately only his, if he - if he hadn't been born -

 _There would be another one,_ tells Oz. _Sorry._

Oscar bites his lip and says, trying to cope with his voice: "He... loves you. And always... always-always..."

"Together-together," Nora whispers with sadness and tenderness. "Thank you, Oscar. For everything."

Her smile flinches when she coughs up blood. But in an instant, she can get her smile back on her face, a crooked smile shining with thick red fluid.

***

"No," Oscar whispers, looking at the next silhouette. "No, no, please..."

He can't stand it and runs into the darkness, towards her, almost slips on bloody marble, and flies right into her hands.

"Oscar? Come on!" screams Ruby when he turns out of her hands and clings to her forearms. Oscar feels he's pushing too hard, but what does she care about the bruises if-

When-

"W-why you," he asks; there is no strength for tears, but there is a lump in the throat. "Don't... not now..."

"Well no, the leader must be a good example for the team!" Ruby tries to joke, but she is scared - of the smell of blood, or the look of Salem, or Oscar himself? Probably the last one; he wouldn't want to see himself right now.

He won't want to see himself ever again in his life.

Ruby tries to hug him; she has warm, soft, clean hands; Oscar retreats. Mutters, "I don't want you in their blood either." Tries to smile. If Jaune could, if Nora could... he once hoped to be a good part of their team...

The stomach curls into a knot, and he only miraculously does not spit out the stomach contents. Ruby holds him by the shoulders, and when Oscar gets over it he clings to her, desperately kisses her neck; he'll never see her again - he wants to see her - he wants to remember her alive... Ruby takes kisses gently, touches her lips to his ear, weightless and tender.

"You're the only one in the whole world," he mumbles to her awkwardly; his voice wheezes. He feels her smile, and it only makes it worse.

"Well, we still need the world to get to that top-1, right?" says Ruby acting like it's fun. "In fact, a world that exists is better than a world that's not?"

Salem sniffs, and the sound is echoed.

That sobers them both.

Ruby takes Oscar by the cheeks and smiles at him:

"You're the only one who can handle it. I believe in you. All of us." She attracts him to herself and kisses him; Oscar tries to remember this moment, every part of it.

"I love you," he whispers in her ear.

"So do I," nods Ruby.

He looks away and slits her throat with a quick blow.

Her face does not change, light, hopeful; but from the wound on her neck blood spurts, and all her clothes are in blood, and Oscar is in her blood. Anyway, she liked the red...

He takes her body in his arms and walks to the altar. Salem is silent, even though Oscar has broken the plan.

And he - Oz - guesses why she doesn't resist.

***

There's no more emotion left; the heart's left somewhere with Ruby, with Nora. With everybody.

Weiss is silent with humility, in her life she's used to obeying the fate. The white dress is all in red divorces.

Blake is pale. Mumbles something about not telling her mom anything.

Yang is the last living one, dull and silent. She has no one left.

And soon Oscar has neither.

***

He feels nothing when the last body is devoured by the darkness. Salem goes forward, the same way, and Oscar follows her, more to do something to hide from thoughts than consciously.

They enter the crowded room and Salem lights the candles with a snap of her fingers. Uneven magical light is reflected in a pool of blood; they're all here... exsanguinated, empty. Alien.

Both of them are silent, but Salem is silent differently; Oscar hears her breath, for the first time in all the time they're here. She is thoughtful. She is disturbed.

The dagger is taken from Oscar's unconscious fingers, he does not resist, although without the magical streams that sink into his hand he becomes empty. She lifts the hem, the snow-white foot steps to blood; it turns out she's ankle deep in the fluid in the hollow of the floor.

She turns to Oscar, and he sees emotions on her face.

”Thank you.”

She cuts her head with a dagger and it cuts the spine with the same ease as it went through the flesh and ribs. The body scatters into the ashes before reaching the floor and the ashes sink in blood; with a loud rattle a blade falls on the stone.

She got it.

Curse is lifted.

All done.

No one left.

Thoughts fall in drops, but there are no more tears and no rejoicing. Oscar sits on the floor, picks up his knees; the head is empty, no words, no emotions, no cheers.

Decided to do something, Oscar lifts the blade and moves closer to his friends' bodies.


End file.
